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NM 10/17/15

.i might have been an *******, on many occasions and with many instances of it being true... but attempting to take someone's life? even i couldn't be such a ******* in the worst of probable instances; no, i'm pretty sure we were doing the "sleeper game", and like i once asked myself cognitively, 'what will be the last song i'll ever hear?' well... it wasn't good morning, or godless, or muhammad... it was... sleep... from the 13 tales of urban bohemia album; befitting, don't you think?

there's no point investing in
the current narrative,
given, that, the moderns
do not entertain the notion
of a dialectics...
    personally i don't see
the point...
or a, point...
          how can there be
debate "concerning",
a, "freedom" of speech,
when one side speaks,
the other side listens,
and then exercises authority
over the former side,
that abolishes their,
"freedom" to continue discourse?
that's not a, "freedom"...
that's... taunting
for the sake of taunting
and subsequent obliteration...
this?
  this particular piece?
i'm not talking...
    i have a cat sleeping
in my bed, in a fetal
position like an alien embryo,
and i'm taking?
who's talking?!
hearing voices in your head?
oh don't worry...
whoever is in charge
will gravitate to moving on
the one politicized medical
condition, schizophrenia,
as an excuse to cage you...
i know... i was also uneasy
when it came to making
a protest...
and guess what...
i made the right accusations...
but i hear of no law suit...
kinda figures, if i'm not being
sued, "merely" labelled
mentally ill...
  hence the... perpetual silence
surrounding my claim...
i can eve give you the details...
he said it was Salvia...
  a south american hallucinogenic...
and he said he hallucinated
riding an elephant,
in India...
         and he also encouraged
the driver of the car to smoke
**** which included almost
veering of the road...
and prior to that fateful day,
we went to a party,
and he made marijuana brownies...
and i donned a cowboy hat
and posed for a picture
like some Buddha with slit
eyes...
         and his friend encouraged
me to do a, "sleeper" while listening
to some Dandy Warhols',
song?
coin toss:
either Muhammad,
  Good Morning...
                    or Godless...
  "sleeper"?
when you get high,
lie down...
  and have two speakers on each side
of your head
blasting music...
a gimmick, a revision of
the concept of headphones...
where?
Canterbury... with a good view
of the cathedral...
the next day...
   spring frost... lovely tinge on
the cathedral from the sunrise...
also went to a bookshop
in Canterbury...
lovely atypical market / cathedral
town narrow streets...
what book did i buy?
inevitable revolutions:
the united states in central america,
by walter lafeber...
so i guess i must be mad...
given that i remember so many details...
regarding the day
i experienced a psychotropic
poisoning,
experienced a brain hemorrhage...
with my face...
melting on the...
here's a problem...
was it the left hemisphere or the right?
i'm not sure...
left?
or right?
   but the sensation of being ingested
by the sofa, and having
difficulty breathing...
with his friend...
as i drowned...
    imitating riding a
Lego-land choo-choo train...
and the fear in his eyes,
the eyes of: someone who failed
to ****** someone
but at the same time fearful
of the intended act?
      i should be dead for...
oh... 21... i'm 32 now...
11 years...
         i might be an alcoholic,
but i have a memory like an elephant...
and i'd believe all the crap
i've heard over the past years...
but if they only drove me to
the hospital...
   out of a simple human empathy...
instead, i was driven home...
i'm surprised they didn't smother me
after witnessing me get up,
and get 4 shots to the head
of my consciousness retracting
from the hemorrhage...
as they recalled back to me,
i said: i'm looking for the 4 other Matthews.
but i'm not a rat...
i am waiting for karma...
i played happy birthday on
the guitar on one of his birthdays...
and i'm guessing...
my sweet sweet love...
Ilona, that russian *****...
hey... she proposed,
she chose the engagement ring,
and then she broke it off!
is behind all of this,
i'm guessing, thanks to social media,
they ****** and she complained
how she was planning to enslave
me by becoming pregnant...
baby... i was so going to propose
you donning a latex **** suit
to extend on the ******...
and he being a Muslim...
and all things quasi-Irish
with regards to my advice to her,
poor thing, only 19...
hey... get an abortion...
   was the Mullah in a bright
white turban, ready to save a damsel...
but i thought that abortion
was legal in England?
oh hell.. pro life and ****...
but a 19 year old?
so why didn't she move to London
with me?
  i had a job here... there was no
prospect for me back in Edinburgh!
   ah... two flats in St. Petersburg...
but i guess that's how law & justice works
in England...
i'm a ruined drunk,
he's a son of a radiologist
             and a mother working
in the perfume avenues of a John Lewis...
my father is a respect industrial
roofer,
   my mother is a housewife...
i guess... i guess me being a boorish
drunk and he becoming an esteemed
corporate lawyer is karma...
   i wish him all the best...
but his children?
   what my parents experienced when
the circus came to town...
all the possible misery,
in the whole, entire, world.

but coming back to current affairs...
there's no point,
absolutely none,
in expressing a, "freedom" of speech,
since expressing such
a "freedom",
is not met with an engagement
in dialectics...
none!
   so why bother...
let's join the four horsemen,
with ***** on either side of our
eye-sockets...
and just charge forward
like a hurricane might,
mindless and in perpetuation
of complete, and utter,
destruction...

i'm up for that explanation
with regards to an exit
policy,

mind you,
happiness could savor
a peace of mind...
but sarcastic humor,
once upon a time...
also could;
as it does...
dutiful to expecting
the final closure
of relying
on the uttermost,
relief.

Since I had returned from the missing,
In life from family and loved ones.

Loss of Dearly Beloved Partners,
Whereby certain words had been,
Unnecessary with those of very deep bonds.

Sure I understand, understood then,
What I dared not spoke of truly with embodied beings.

It was a true joy Easter 1978,
To get together with your family.
Mom , Dad and Steven had been there.

We had a chance to talk as young adults,
Perhaps get to know each other in such a new way.

Sure you 16, said 'you were woman',
I have long since found the words of;

'I once loved a woman, a child I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
Don't think twice, it's all right.'

Chillingly haunting still!!
For better and or worse still!!

But there we were young enough adults,
You were so receptive and I spoke in your earnest attention.
While too I picked up many subtle things by you,
Few words came back.

But you listened so well my friend whom I saw.
Surely I was open and in dire need to tell my story to a soul alive.
I refer to such as 'my little sermon on the mount' still at any price.
And so I believed in you as some partner then there indeed.

Not necessarily as unfolded, but such all did.
'We never did to much talking anyway';

Well not so true at all really on the contrary.
But 'Jeremiah was a Bull Frog';

Apparently,

I'm not sure if either understood a word said to this very day.

'What was it you wanted';
Can you say?

You tell me I can't,
Never could.

Claims of 'Christ Discipleship' in differing ways!!

Joy To The World

And I can take all detail like a wild man, savant,
Roll around the 'wheel of spectrum disorders' I know.

Still know just One thing!!!
We have been here before in oh so many ways!!

On one hand I understand 'All Complications',
Oh so simply of All Gods Children!!
On the other hand none at all.

So hard to understand and accept all at once!!

I always knew you,
By Eve of Halloween's Eve later same year;
Or more acutely so very soon thereafter that;

You were somehow my 'nemesis';
That was would produce my 'dark night of soul';

I was once again conquered,
By just one moment of doubt

Dark Knight
Loving Brightly

I was even joyed by that!!

Still I would believe in things,
I was already assured of in this my life;

'The World'
We live in

Here
Hear

In these now's.

I sum up 'The Word' Bible in just one Word,
By that 'Red Letter Word' at the Last Supper.

About LOVE sure,
But just two letters;

'AS'

As in;
'Just love one another 'AS' I have loved you'!!

Which was with Gods;
  
Gifts of 100% Judgement on with Zero Judgmentalness!!

That is my friend and partner most true I only understand!!

Good News Being Good!!!

Christians say 'well hey look Moses had 10 then expounded 5 books beyond as Torah.

Well,
See!!!

Shaman Master J

Got's that down to just 2 !!;

'Love God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself'!!!

Ya and in front of the corrupt politicized,
Blasphemed powers of the Hebrew leaders that day!!!

Reciting the Torah
Standing on one foot!!

~8~~~
Days a Week

Wow!!!
Huh!!!

Well truth be he was just reciting,
The living word near verbatim of the last minor prophets in those last days!!!

Otherwise he would and did say like the Greeks,
In marble on their temple and as I know,
Easier otherwise to say;

'Know Thyself';

All creation is within all things,
So therefor on this path of inner self honesty,
With the message we all inwardly receive,
It all lines up and all mystery ceases to be!!!

So no I do not understand,
Certain types of complications,
No I don't.

All so overly simple to me!!

You have always overly impressed me,
In oh so many ways, such inherent 'gifts';

But they must breathe or what are they.

We may be off charts at different ends;
Yet I still know how close to very fine are these lines between!!

Yet,

'Liteheart5'

'Lite125'
~8~~
Fly Free!!!!

~3~~
Be yet between!!!

Even
AS Shaman Master J;

/ so much typical association with one letter / ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/just-love-one-another-as/

Happy Birthday,
Always, All Ways!!!

From a text you might recall,
I poemalized by whom in your contact list,
By phone I have been,
Dubbed 'Ron the Lord'!!!!

Garlic Really??? or !!!
Sure I can understand your heart / that just assume chop garlic really / ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/garlic-really-or/

Yes 'hued partner,
We too ~2~ can,
Be family!!!

Still
~3~~ between!!!
Us Two!!

~~5~~~
Too
Must Breathe

<3<3:):):)!!! R
Not so complicated!!!!

Illegally Separate
You some other me / some how wherefore / way; / X'YZleeeping; / I ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/illegally-seperate/

The New Dew Due, 'Double Triple Two Steps' Forward!!!
Believe as 'The Heavenly Father" speaks life living within you!! / Than cast continually ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/the-new-dew-due-double-triple-two-steps-forward/

eYe
Will Always
Love You!!! Ra, Ra Ron!!!

I have written some beautiful things about you!!
Some in paper hoards somewhere like;

"30 Trillion Light Year Journey"
'08 that date I am certain of!!

'Stitched without a trace',
A beaut,
I'd love to dig up,
Idk where but paper,
It is somewhere here!!!

'Worlds Most Wanted Woman',
Stuck on my old phone will be retrieved at some point,
Stored in it's memory viable I know,
Was a long text or series,
I know you so love!!!

Yes by 'Ron the Lord'!!!!
<3<3:):):)!!!

LOVE!!!R

Ty Josephine!!!!

*~Sa Sa, Ra!!!~~

(Ain’t “They” Great!)

Now watching 13 year old grandkid live-on-streaming-Internet,
playing Little League baseball in California, pleasantly surprised,

No, not by the amazing technology, or his super great play,
but the laugh-out-loud accommodation to the “au courant”

Game announcer, a soulless robot machine, stupid-smart, without exception, employs THEY pronoun for all, which after 10 seconds thot,

of serious reflection is a brilliant deflection, a solutionary salutation!
We come to see kids play ball, care not a whiff (double entendre),

re identity politicized insanity, machine makes everyone truly equal,
robbing stupids of a phony, proclamation of self-righteous “individuality”

God Bless No-Brainers!
Ain’t They Great!


~Postcript~

Introducing a newly Recomposed Natty:

still an OWG
(old white guy)
but now a Proudly, a gaily machine-made, in the USA

They.

Gabriel asked the Prophet
'read', prophet who God crowned with a prophethood
of being last
replied 'I cannot read'
Prophet wrapped himself with a warm blanket
Khadija the prophet's true love said
You are God's chosen one
since you are all sincere, honest
and never do wrong to His people.

this, what is wrong with today's people
never seeking to learn
or read
knowing they know everything.
so they can **** anyone
in the name of God
they **** innocent people
and yet, the response is
'we **** infidel's
who are the infidels?
You and i are not God
It is for the God to decide
who's the most kind of all

The Sunni Muslims have a story to tell they're better than shia Muslims
and shia' have defensive tale to say, 'they are less honored one'
it's all politicized matters
not the religion
the crusades of islam is not about religion
but the gaining of power
who's going to lead after the Prophet's  death?

even the prophet himself narrated 'he's mere human being
who God blessed with might

God says, love thee people
as I love you the best
I'm closest to you, even more closer to your own heartbeat
no other will love you, as i how love you

I felt the longingness
this hunger, and the strike to do well in life
even though, i no longer am with people
who i thought to be my people
it feels so odd and out of place
most of the time
since i can't begin to tell
how truly i feel

i learned to unlearn
my roots, and inheritance
how hard it is, to defy
what you knew for your entire life

I learned to be with people, without needing them
and saying, 'goodbye's, when I didn't want to
since nothing is real
nobody is here for real
only the matters, and interactions with each other
will define
the true identities of us

it doesn't hold true to people, who share Islamic faith
but, the Christianity, Hinduism, or Judaism
or another religion
in any other region of the world

As of my utterance, i don't trust people with establishments
and people, running the show

In Pakistan, the land where i was born
nobody cares for anyone, whether they leave
or stay
even if somebody dies
people stay inhumane, insensitive about most of the things
but the focus is too much on religion
even the moral conduct
is not so right

At the edge of my state, when i utter this i feel erked
and awkward
low in spirits or perhaps
i don't feel anything, at all.

When the Abraham was asked to 'sacrifice'
his beloved son, 'Ismail'
he without defying
obliged to Gods will
God, in his dutiful obedience
replace Ismail with a lamb
to fulfill the traditions, Muslims each year
follow the Abrahams traditions
when people slaughter million of animals
in name of God which has merely became a mockery
of 'sacrifice'

The day i left my house, i felt truly abandon
and so, the time when i left my friend's house
who i visited only before leaving
I thought to myself, this will never be filled
and it didn't
even after many years afterward
I stand in my nomadic spirit
without owning anything
or have anything in mind, to occupy anything

This world, as i see
is a mere transition period
where we meet people
of all race, and kinds
from all regions , and faith
but it doesn't give us any upper or lower hand
to justify anything, whatever we feel
or think.

As it is not for me to decide
or others to judge,
by other people's religion, or region
color, race, kind

There is no place in Quran that says, hate people
from other religion
nor it says, to defend your faith
when people attack you.
The rising Islamphobia and hatred
for the muslims,
in response, all the muslims could say,
'Islam is a religion of peace'
a defensive approach, again and again
not wiling to understand
it's not for you to defend your religion
your faith doesn't need you, it's you, who needs it
for your own purity, to perserve the innocence
and the feeling for others
when others fail to do

God says, 'Surely there are signs in this
for those of you who would reflect'
to me, its a comforting zone
I derive my pleasure in this
but there are so many people out there, interpreting the verses
in their own perspectives.

Upon the reasons, i feel it's necessary to challenge yourself
your mind, your readings
learnings
inheritances
wisdom and all the knowledge you acquired over the years

we don't acquire knowledge in order to boost
but to be better,
and to understand the reasons

I was named by the 'Moons light, that means moonlight which is poetic
and referred as 'beautiful'
I am not sure who named me, as i remember my childhood
a very quiet, deserted and lonely one
it wasn't tragic but disturbed


I have erased my memory and the corners of heart, that used to feel mighty heavy
for so many things
the betrayals, insincere
and lack of resistance shown by people
i left everything behind me

When Ishaq's sons took Yusuf
he cried most of his times, till the point
he lost his sight which he regained by seeing Yusuf's
he was betrayed by his own brothers
only to gain their father's attention
they tricked Yusuf
which he survived regardless

the betrayals are hard to forgive or even remove
and the cultural hindrances, resistant obstacles

it's been a while since i felt home
anywhere
and even when I'm home
i feel the distant memory of my own self
which was innocent

I'm Mahwish, and it means 'beautiful like moonlight
my life will reflect the meaning of my name, someday
and till then
I continue to live.

Were you ever in love with someone not
Listed as an approved relationship
By roaming mobs of false analogies
In either-or assumptions basely masked?

Friendship and love are regulated now
Not by a written fiat of the state
But by the decibels of imbeciles
The bellowed mandate of the club and fist

The law of love is now the law of bans -
They’ve politicized even the touching of hands

It’s taken you’re fed up
With politicized debate
And the fools who do brinkmanship’s
Scared world of hate.
And the ghouls who eat babies
As pawns in their game
In their scrawny white *****’s
Sad quest for fame.

Where the sick sabre rattlers
Cavort with their ploys
Of destroying old satellites
To show off their toys.
To drape flags of challenge
With threat weave inbound
Across mantles of aspirants
Desirous to be crowned.

Intimidating tactics
From they with the gun
Against all the challengers
Emerging at run.
From China to terrorist
The gauntlet’s thrown,
You cross our line
There's no mercy shown.

And we little guys sit
In our quiet, timid way,
Whilst the gigantic ego's
Jostling holds sway.
Whilst the arrogant right
Profess to have God,
And the rest of us cower
In fear, like a dog.

And the sun comes up
With a glorious show
And the nuclear dust
In the air is aglow,
And the rich and the famous
Are dead in their beds
And the ***** and the cockroaches
Nibble their heads.

It’s all such a waste
In a terrible way
When the General’s pushed buttons
And had such a day....


Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
10 February 2011

The revolution will not be televised,
unless it is being used to vilify,
or is being politicized
by those political guys
trying to score votes.
Any fair press will be silenced or brutalized
along with other protesters.
The leadership will be euthanized,
or demonized unless they can be
subdued quietly.

If you are under the illusion
that you can fight back physically
you must be mentally silly.
The cops got equipment
left over from the military
cause the war machine
wants to sell our government
the newest toys.

If our government has any say
they will find a way to lock away
anyone who might inspire change.
If you don’t believe me
just look and read
about Assata Shakur,
or Angela Y. Davis.

If you know or love anyone
who is out there trying to save us,
from the congressional and big business,
power hungry alliance
you better pray that they keep their defiance
just low key enough to slip the notice
of Law enforcement, or POTUS,
cause this country isn’t for us
and does not provide justice.
It is just a business that is made
to break and degrade
while the working class is enslaved.

insanity reigns
as aborted fetuses
are sold to secret labs
for cell experimentation –
fore-runners from the right
cry out into the darkness
screaming profanities
at poor would be mothers –
politicized uteruses
stand at the precipice
of human rights activists
endless need for debate –
all laws are applied to bodies
all bodies are under the yoke
of both local or state
and federal governmental whim –
frenzied followers puffed up faces
holler about the unborn
desiring every fertilized egg
to be another slave to Capitalism –
**** victims cower  and
pregnant sufferers of ******
rock gently back and forth on the cold floor
holding bellies tight with both arms
tears running freely down sad and lonely faces
somewhere in Louisiana …
option less, they birth unwanted children
abuse and neglect them
beat and mistreat
spawn of filth
like good little constituents –

Harambe the inquisitive Self
Harambe the mangy dog
Harambe the broken Spirit
Harambe whose bones are my altar, scepter
Harambe who in his jailhouse did rock
Harambe whose name is communal labor
Harambe who stared into clear blank eyes and intuited the nature of the Soul
Harambe because Blake
Harambe because Hattie Carroll
Harambe because Truth in unintelligible letters, bleak
Harambe because ******* bullets pointed your way
Harambe because Et tu, Brute?

Harambe who constructed mental labyrinths out of paradise
Harambe who was half divine
Harambe who was half Man
Harambe who was full Anima Mundi
Harambe who was aped by the lollygagging necks and stiff roboticism of the masses
Harambe who was memed within an inch of his exhumed life
Harambe who was politicized
Harambe who was poeticized, needlessly

Harambe who stared down a Cincinnati sunrise just once upon arrival
Harambe who could not take it
Harambe who stayed inside all day
Harambe who was struck by the immensity of small broken objects (especially children)
Harambe who could not fathom my poetry, but wrote it all the same
Harambe who did not die in vain
Harambe whose voice will never taste his country
Harambe who no amount of ***** held out will return his stagnant soul to his body again

America was never just great
It was flawed first
It is practically an accident
But better here than India
The explorers came, and faster than a cinnamon skinned Arawak Native American woman could yell “the colonialists are coming!” The men in lily-white shirts shoved the unsuspecting indigenous off their land.

The explorers were as lost as Louis and Clark without Sacajawea
But a determined pedophelic peony planted itself in the deep brown soil
The invasive plant started a genocidal streak all over the continent
In return it won a couple cities and holiday and the Native Americans were bestowed with accidental exposure to smallpox and enslavement.  

To repay them we allotted reservations where people live in crippling poverty, put Sacajawea on a coin and Pocahontas in a movie yet we cannot fully allow them into our society, our neighborhoods, our schools because they are uncivilized.

The only people who have any business being on this continent are uncivilized. What a shame.

America still is not great
It still shows scars and old behaviors from the 1400s, 1800s, 60s and even yesterday. The Band-Aid was applied but the wound never washed, never sewn up.
So it sets, burgundy bruises and gore gaping at our present, our future.
America’s past is far darker than anyone’s skin but is accepted while brown complexions are not. America’s roots are not up for discussion, white supremacy is not real.

We are imagining things.

We weren’t turned away at white linoleum restaurant counters, we haven’t been isolated from the rest of the country, our sufficiency in the English language hasn’t been questioned, our bodies haven’t been sexualized, politicized
It’s all in our heads.

Our heads, spinning with fiction, are buried
Sinking towards the earth’s core, waiting to come out of the other side where oppression is not pressing down on us like a molten red brick wall. Our brown heads will come up out of the grass and be greeted by the sun and all will welcome us.

she looked down at the dog’s cancerous paw
rubbing again the medicated salve
produced from politicized plant material
and a little ole American knowhow
a slight grumble escapes his floppy jowls

the ever-present battle against carcinogens
as, daily, we breathe what fukushima offers
and drink fluoridated water
while pesticides may as well be considered
a nutritional supplement

she reaches down and pats a greying head absentmindedly
from 68 lbs. back to 110
one year and seven months of cannabis oil
has given us a new lease
on an old dog

visions of my mother in the end-of-life care facility bed
stuffing pounds into capsules to grant life
falling short when it was needed most
four months and 12 days ago
I couldn’t do for her what I did for my dog

she takes the old man out to the field adjacent our home
he runs and bounds
stops to munch grass
and roll around on the green he cannot see
the green rolls around in my head
as I cannot see either

.nietzsche once wrote: imagine the uncomfortable position, of having to speak for the whole of humanity... that's what i think of, in terms ever bothering to read an English philosopher; after reading Leviathan by Hobbes, i was so put off by English thought, that i became a recluse among the Germans... i still can't explain why i dislike English philosophy, but then again, i do: it's so... so... politicized! all of English philosophy is endeared by its culmination in Darwin, that... i rather look at an individual, rather than the entire schematic stratum of society, of human organization... if an individual can organize himself to fit an already rigid social structure, a seemingly predetermined social structural "pathos"... i don't think i will ever be convinced.

Kant among the ancients Greeks...
it's a simple schematic:

    a priori (prior)                    a posteriori (after)
the skeptic,                                  the stoic,
the cynic,                                      the Epicurean...

sometimes... language requires
a momentary borrowing from the simple
abstract of mathematics -
well, arithmetic...
                                 2 x 2 = 4...
the cynic's inclination to believe...
can only have an a priori ontological
orientation, leading up to experience...
hence the a posteriori realm...
wasn't Descartes the prime
example of skepticism?
                     cynicism is skepticism
whereby an inclination to believe
is replaced with a determination to doubt...

now the divide...
knowledge...
                a priori there is no knowledge
to be spoken of lightly...
instead... there's intuition...
or... der instinkt... hey, i still don't
know which definite article is
required for a certain expression in
German... it could also be das instinkt
or die instinkt... never mind...

i settled on this Kantian backwards
and forwards for some "strange" reason...
well... it's niche...
   and doesn't attract mobs...
it's not the sort of "problem" you'd
really see in life,
other than in the leisure time
you could ascribe to periods of prolonged
thinking, or not thinking,
reflecting, rather than itemizing
thought: as an insatiable reflex of
consciousness...
  that dreaded persistence of narration...
bundled together with
empirical bombardment via
the senses...

hence i lean toward stoicism and toward
the Epicurean side of things...
needless to say...
if i can know anything, anything at all...
it cannot exactly come from...
oh wait... yeah... knowledge
does exist a priori,
simply put: history repeats itself...
so you can learn from the past...
****...
                     well, the statement was
about to become hyperbolic anyway...
point being: that knowledge is
of a collectivist nature...
  to my understanding at least...
to generalities,
to succumbing to other people's
"realities"...
                        a pseudo-universal
knowledge of...
  but even if that is so...
having knowledge of the past /
a priori, from what came prior...
implies that you can't have knowledge
of the future!
you can have speculation,
you can take to gambling,
you can guess...
             and you can also hope (for the best)...
but...
a priori knowledge is exclusive
with regards to a posteriori knowledge,
they're not mutually inclusive,
they're mutually exclusive...
oddly enough, this is not a paradox,
but the ontology of... zeit-wissen...
time-knowledge...
                       space... oddly enough,
without being attached to time in
a relativism is... a bit like photographic
memory... when orientating yourself
in a new city, for the weekend...
tall buildings as compass pivots...
yet knowledge a priori
       (instinct, intuition,
    "knowing" how to throw a ball
a certain way
   cannot translate into a posteriori
knowledge through... whatever it is
that allows to make the transition...
instinct and intuition are prone
to the fault of mortality...
i.e. an aging baseball player will not
throw the same ball 30 years apart,
a priori "knowledge" is mostly
associated with a gift...
an inheritance, such knowledge is
nothing more than an inheritance...
   it's an ontological phenomenon per se,
but the knowledge isn't learned
as such... it it inherent, inherent,
   particular to the instance of its expression,
and unlike the a priori knowledge
of the expression: history repeats itself,
we can learn from the past...
it is unique, particular, not universally
viable, it's not collectivist...

a posteriori knowledge... well...
trial & error...
   empiricism...
              with no knowledge prior,
having some sort of empirical experience
provides a mostly new knowledge,
all of science is tinged
with an a posteriori methodology...
it is accumulative knowledge,
on the collective sense...
on the individual grounding...
wisdom...
        to not repeat the same mistakes
twice, which then, "magically"
is supported by cynicism...
    once a person has grasped a glimpse
of human nature,
   and concludes that self-interest
is the prime motivation...
he learns to respect his fellow beings...
in that, said trust...
is a cautionary standard for further
interactions...

all in all...
        a priori knowledge cannot
peer into a posteriori knowledge...
   on a personal level,
  a mere hyphen helps...
i.e.
             a priori can only peer
   into a- posteriori realm;
i.e. (a-) without an after...
  while, likewise,
   a posteriori can only peer into
a- priori realm,
  i.e. (a-) without a prior...
why?
well in the first instance,
whatever was known prior...
is what is known without an after...
likewise in the second instance,
whatever is known after,
has already discredited what was known
prior...

a posteriori knowledge is accumulative,
but it is also erasive in nature...
i.e. it erases preconceptions,
   and all that is a priori...

a priori knowledge is inherent,
but it is also tied, subtly with empiricism,
in that... if thinking was a sense,
a sense of sight... e.g.
   then we would call thinking:
intuition, instinct...
or rather the absence of thought,
and a synchronicity of all the senses...
given that the existence of thought:
cannot be categorized by
the synchronicity of all our five senses,
at the same time...
   the existence of thought is
predicated on 5 - 1 = 4...
at least one sense needs to be absent
from what the remaining senses
synchronize...
i.e.
        i see this text, i hear this music
(chant of the templars),
       i feel this keyboard and the clothes
on me...
but... i can't exactly smell anything
specific,
    or taste anything specific either...
saliva like water... doesn't exactly
have a taste;
ergo: i can think of something akin to this.

I just realized: I am in mourning. I am mourning the loss of my life right now.
A trans man posted that he was mourning the loss of the boyhood that he never had.
I am mourning the loss of a gender-free childhood I never had. I am mourning that I have to cover who I am. I mourn what I could have but don’t. I mourn.
I have lost so much time. For almost a year I have known I am genderqueer, but have kept silent at home. I am mourning what I could have had if the world had been easier; if the world had been kinder, gentler to me. If only the world could show love.
I feel my identity is unloved in my home. I feel it is highly politicized, dehumanized, unreal, not palpable in the air which we all breathe at the dinner table together.
I AM REAL I shout! See me for I am so real. Hear and feel me for my skin is true, my mind is true; I am real and I sit here with you.
I am mourning the loss of a childhood I never had. I mourn the loss of kindness I never had.
Please be kind. I promise I will always be kind.

In my arms, my dear child, you are not a political piece, you are not a distant figure - distant yet still held so closely in my arms and cradled like a child. There will be none of that. You are simply one whom I love, and I am yours in return.
Please love me for who I am. I am only human, I can only take so much.
I don't want to be your figure, I want to be your child. There is such a big difference.

.                  am i really 32?
  seriously?
have i lived a live
most insulated...
did i forget something?!
did visiting a
brothel do this to me,
that i do not speak
the lingo,
and have no idea,
what these people are talking
about, or have any desire
to find out?
   i was never a big fan
of graffiti art...
and since the current
internet lingo is very
much akin to graffiti art...
i'm quasi-old:
qua-sigh old...
            i'm not in on it...
have i really lived
such an insulated life?
      perhaps i enjoyed
drinking too much,
and blacked out too often
to catch-up with the trends...
point being?
NO, *******, CLUE...
    perhaps i fell asleep
listening to too many
horror movie soundtracks...
perhaps i was asleep
prior to waking up as a man,
as was, somehow yesterday's
gorilla...
     but i guess it began with
no attache of moral superiority...
but there is...
a concept of aesthetic
etiquette...
   what sort of man sends
a picture of his genitals to a girl?
no moral question:
an aesthetic etiquette question:
and that's a biggie...
  life-sized hot air balloon!
can't miss it...
   or if you do...
you're ******* your own
**** with your eyes closed...
or attempting Olympic quality
gymnastics...
i missed something...
didn't i?
       the missing transaction...
if you pay a woman
to have ***, she can't claim
a **** allegation...
  she can claim not being
payed...
   oh sure...
it's so sad, yet somehow *****
when she starts crying
in the thick of it...
     what is confusing is
the clarity of the transaction...
   wait...
did i pay for an ice-cream cone?
did i "say" this, "out-loud"?
   go figure...
ask the Turkish mafia...
who? the Turkish pimps
who run the Bulgarian ****-show...
   i'm still missing something...
4chaan... what did i miss?
is this some sort quasi
rekindling
of the Microsoft chat rooms from
the early 2000s?
   they must be...
they look like those chat rooms...
crude, rude,
and ready to ensure a begetting
of guillotined head,
rolling... like a pair...
of dice...
   did i miss something?!
   you can't experience a **** allegation
with a *******...
       not that **** is involved...
like the bloodhound gang song:
a lap dance is so much better
when the stripper is crying...
      can't say the same when she is,
having revealed she drank herself silly
and is ******* you...

herr metzger, treffen frau fleisch...

i should really stop watching these
youtube channels regarding
social / political commentaries...
drama seeped in...
    ****'s becoming tedious...
i'm losing appetite for these whining
******* and gimps...
     my drinking habit is turning sour...
i'm watching
teenage girls make videos about
their readings habits while
tuning off from
the   thron von throne exercise of...

taking a ****...
massaging my prostate by
relaxing my **** muscle contraction,
taking a ****,
then jerking off...
1, 2... and 3...
   no. 1, no. 2, no. 3...

          so... no one in western Europe
is worried about
the... Ukrainian application
to the European Union?
  Turkey came first?
really?!
  you sure?
           oh i'm pretty sure the Veesteern
Poowers... were more abject
about the power 8...
than about some aboriginals
from former colonies...
          
but i missed something on 4chan...
the gegenwärtigsprechen?
  missed it, by an internet mile...
which is like from here...
  to              here...
and it's actually from here to Jupiter...


about that...
when you **** a ******* that's crying?
and you can't stop...
and you made the monetary exchange...
Alice in Wonderland...
      so... where's the ****?
not having paid her...
or the fact that she's so drunk
that all her hidden emotions overflow
into a rainbow of tears?

crude ******* that i am...
     left with only a metzger
(butcher) appreciation of fleisch (flesh)...
   yet i remember this one
instance...
   being laughed at for my medical
condition...
however politicized,
or however actualized....

       i didn't like it...
        i didn't like it,
because once i did likewise,
but retracted my original jest,
made an apology,
   and later talked with the original
aggrieved party over
a pint of beer in a pub...
and we managed to coerce ourselves
into mutually respectable civility...

but... there are simply some *****...
who keep grudges...
jealousy is a *****-god
of the Hebrews who...
oddly enough...
have arisen... and who always
levitate...
    above their God...
the Hebrews are above their God...
of other people:
their God or (s) is
a motivational tool to surpass
themselves...
the people are little
when compensated by their gods...

but the Hebrews?!
their God: is an abomination...
   what sort of envy is... jealousy?
skiving, ignoble latitude of
envious brewing sentiment...

now...
the Hebrews lie about their God...
they lie about their God,
they lie about their God
because their God...
has no attributes worth
emulating...
   nothing worth replicating...
nothing worth considering a mimic...

and i agree...
true wisdom comes from a God
"despised", or rather shunned...
but more or less borderline
kept on a leash of memory...

   wisdom from a fear of a despicable god,
rather than "wisdom" from a love
of a desirable god, father- or mother-figure.

that's how the Hebrews worked it out...
their god is not the most existent god,
the god apparent...
   it's that...
   they cannot claim a theological pride
in their deity,
  or claim it was culturally sound
to keep his visage beyond anything more
than four letters...

Muhammad is but a man...
the TETRAGRAMMATON?
the tetragrammaton is not a man!

oh... right... the other thing...
making fun of medical conditions...
supposing a hierarchy...
   depression... ha ha!
schizophrenia... ha ha!

well then...
                   cancer... HA HA!

Where have we gone wrong?
Is this wrong?

We can hardly stand to speak to
one another anymore.

Does anyone remember how to
actually use the telephone feature
of the device that they carry
in their pockets?

Is this the future?
Am I living in the past?

How does one stay grounded, centered,
in the moment, these days, these months,
this godforsaken year?

Everything,
every conversation,
even my plate of biscuits & gravy
has been politicized, polarized,
punctuated, with the pugilism of
keystroke pundits.

On most Sunday afternoons,
I sit and compose.

My own musings;
the oatmeal of my mind.
Waiting for Goldilocks,
maybe a bear or three.

Come Monday,
I’m incarcerated for the day,
playfully playing the role
of Counselor
to men with addiction-issues;
an outright aversion to following
the norms of our less-than-gracious
Golden Age.

I might say that I’m playacting,
but I take it all very seriously.
(Not myself, mind you,
the work done inside those iron-gates.)

I refuse to perform with an angry eye,
heart or mind.
Seeking
clarity.
Showing
concern.

Are you a help or a hindrance?

This might be the question
we all could answer,
especially now,
on the downward *****
of
The 21st year
of the 3rd Millienia.

We’ve elected an inept celebrity.

Several of us love that facist fact,
loading out in our flag-adorned F-150s.

(Yee-haw!)

What a shame.
What a sham.
What a shambles our humanity
is in.

Our souls scream for something
that feels like success,
security, surety.

Even those whom are seen
as the least of us;
who vote against their own
self-interests,
they deserve better than
The Beast of Us.

Our faces hidden behind masks,
tearful eyes,
our fellow citizens have died,
our leaders lied,
we rioted, protested,
looted,
in response to jack-booted oppressors.

Confessors?
None.

This battle,
this race of inequity
may never be won.

Still,
we run.

*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublicarions 2020

What are we asking of ourselves now
Only equality if death must decide for us
We don't know what discomfort will produce
Street fighting or words without seeing eyes
Demands for peace only start another war
At the moment we become politicized
Our minds close and truth is abandoned
What we believe is what comforts us most
Even if hatred is our elixir and love our lie
But as our children discover the morning light
They will know that even darkness must sleep
And the changing of the guard will become love

. the thespian autocracy
of all the, "other",
"remnant": remaining artcs...
this thespian....
                 dyslexic-
missing link lexicon of serving
observation...
****** of art...
who? the actors! the thespians!
the most politicized...
the most corrupted...
               who else readily dons
a mask?
   no Halloween costume,
not ulterior motive,
no motif...
        if you paint, if you write poetry,
if you sculpt,
whatever...
you know that you live under an
autocracy of the thespian!
time to end this age...
and deem Thespian the demigod
akin to Narcissus;
a status, most deserving the power.

Dance with the devil with
two chicken feet,
spilled beans
pills reeking of sin,
braided veins, clenching fists,
the Lord is my shepherd when
I'm the sheep,
manifesting brethren and manifestos
of governments,
depopulation of educated slaves,
drink from the cup that
defines your worth,
***** lips, thoughts in braille,
diabetic oldies and cabbages,
dead fetuses and tomatoes,
manhood and eggplants,
sterile women eating omelets,
abandoned kids eating goat meat,
buried underneath slubs,
subscribe to the notifications
of corrupted media,
mutating phobias, the feared is
the victim.
Poets and marijuana,
writers' block and emotionless poems,
******* eating molds,
fungus and bacteria foams.
Hide righteousness in a cloak,
dangling nerves have strangled
our generation!!!

Club Controller;
Boom bap,
*** shaking,
wombs filled with ghosts of babies,
Ovaries now main ingredients for corporate omelets.
Adam and Eve,
the dominant and the submissive,
Bitten forbidden fruit on Apple logos.
Artificial intelligence,
human negligence,
mummified peasants,
death is proud of its workspace.
Institutions judging
black ops as being too rebellious for success,
stores selling tumours
and diabetes symptoms.
Atheists and theists fighting in poetry pieces.
Innocent citizens dodging bullets whilst diving into graves,
mortuary polluted with the smell of corpses with gunpowder in small spaces.
Free our souls,
stop polishing the chains that shackle us,
remove handcuffs that have extended to our throats whilst we dangle from Amarula branches.
Deceived intellectuals,
searching for Nirvana in cannabis trips,
mocking poetry,
seeing Shakespeare as a founding father.
Deception poeticized,
corruption politicized!
The truth is my artery,
wisdom is my capillary,
poetry is the hidden mos code in my fingerprints.
Poetry is the stem to
ascend truth into the human language,
use it for no social
media whilst
marketing for likes!!!

'ere i r: "thieving" around with some base ęgliş -

it must be admired: this citizen
politicized majority:

that a people can fathom fudge packaging
tier upon tier:

and serve both a democracy of voices
and the necessary vote: illiterate X
"acronym" piece o' pie for a signature's
worth...

wow and doubly: wow... on a continent when
there's this status quo class strictures:

moths, cobwebs(,) and spare change...
this grand asymptomatic clue...
i hope to pretend
to steal a language from
a people... that have no diaspora poignancy -
because: there's this squatting "elsewhere"...

litany of secrecy that has to become:
blunt dumb and grating
cheddar: stoic-esque...
the blunting of the knife and
the sharpening of the tongue...

i will still find the sort of reggae i want...
culture's harder than the rest
(full album)...

picky moi: burning spear's
marcus garvey -
the black voice
that demanded of his
choccy people a repatriation
process:
how alien it must seem
to be african-american
going to a majority black
country...
how unwelcome
one must be...
to be black and thrown back
into kenya...
speaking no word of the native
breath...
what statues of agony
an IDI AMIN could...
and did... dying a slow death
in the ***** of arab racialism...
oh sure joys of sculpture...
unforgiving in how
legs dismembered would
be reattached to sockets where
arms ought to imitate bird flight
with flapping: and vice versus...
i suffer to have not this sort
of imagination!

but that is a song...
   i'm here attempting to steal
english from the english:
it's not "about to" happen
either...
i'm getting drunk on
the cocktail: before, of course...
i come across some
bureaucratic "sensibility":
some angry ***** mad
enough with the least
authority given...

         that people given
the least authority tend to abuse it
the most...

i had to look at europe "elsewhere"...
milan kundera pointed
out this quote
'quarrel in a far away country,
between people of whom we know nothing'
by neville chamberlain
when appeasing ******
concerning the merger of
extended bohemia
into the third *****...
                
  it would seem: it would always
be easier to treat the middle east
with enforced straight lines...
e.g. iraq / jordan never look
like naturally invoked
land masses -

no mountain range no river...
it's not that i have to blame
the english pauper for
a past history of colonialism...
but... to have little knowledge
of your neighbour's lot...
was there any similar ignorance
when: outstanding brits
matched napoleon's ambitions?

i test my own patience with this...
at what point will i finally state:
well... given the air of politics
weaving its way trickle down
into the publically paid bureaucracy...
em...
is it racism or is it...
an african fetish?
     like me... i'm all for porcelain girls
of the orient: no one wants
to **** exhausted gammon... do they:
in this mismatched kama sutra... do they don't they?

i'm sensing a fetish for... it's gone beside
a racism: i'm looking to the east
of what's still europe -
a zilant semblance written
in "old orthography" of the tatars...
   qazan - someone's knowing on my door...
the germanic peoples pushed...
then the slavic peoples pushed...
then the mongols and the turkmen pushed
this great funnel and sieve
of a: pseudo-continent that's probably
only an extended experiment
of great mother asia and uncle siberia...

after all: isn't australia an island?
who ever has to hear the same
soft-narrative: out-of africa...
except those pesky eskimos -
      frisky... but we left africa
with no thinking equipment -
no phonetic encoding...
    if we left with some arabic...
but we didn't...
if we left with some sanskrit...
but we didn't... some chinese ideograms...
but we didn't...
no wonder we left...
i don't endear myself to pursue
hieroglyphics as sensible enough:
to counter the modern emojis...

which they are...
pits and falls in the latin alpha-beta-coy...
then..
to "work" by loiter -
no wonder: grievances
when work is drudgery -
when one cannot perfect
a deed - but has to churn out
appeasement after appeasement:
slurp an oyster from
an ****...

i still must be thieving english
from... the english...
leftovers of the forever debased
schizoid - or the new lineage
bound to bilingualism:
a return to thematic crude-,

no... i can't digest this:
there's some sort of drama:
but there's no staging for it...
an open round-up of applause...
devoid of choice is a higher
tier condescending-
           for lacking will -

to write this very little...
but then to harness the prospect
of a sunrise: an 8am welcome!
welcome to no night
of finitudes... of conclusions...
my foot will never stand
in thailand: because
of the thai surprise...
easily a ****-along story
for a vanguard torry:

        i will have two Plantegenant
old housewives
when there's: the food
i need to curate for my palette:
a sad sad show-story...
when i... walk out from the house
and tug a dead-weight
of consumerism from my
mother's girdle...

          i call it... playing banjo
with toothpick... 'n' esse...
      the pristine curation of sharpening
teeth: to bite into a tide...
into a swelling heave of a wave...

i want to be able to be normal
sleeping with a foreign body
in my bed...
i was once able to sleep with a dog...
i am as finicky as the cat
that attempts
to sleep with me in the same
bed....
shadows clamour and therefore
clash...

  the british isles are too grand...
i want something smaller...
i want a life among the faroe islanders...
escape escape forever
this unforgiving narrative...

can you look at a people you're acquiring
to "ally"...
never marking your own horrors...
with your own black hitlers...
i can attest to the bleach...
but you can't somehow blank slate:
state a genesis without a dichotomy...

let's go! black history month!
now is the time! now i want to remember
IDI AMIN!
  black history month!
i want to remember IDI AMIN!
no... not marcus garvey:
proponent of repatriation...
i want to remember: IDI AMIN!
after all... the mongols have
their "abraham" their genghis khan...
and they have their pocket
of leftover in crimea with
that mongol-europeans: the tatars...

i have no love for history come
the tide of relating the Iberian peninsula...
south h'america... "mine"?
the north coast of africa...
fizzling out of in-breeding...
when the goth came across
the instigators of conquest of the "muzzies"...
cocktails on us! boyos!

i want to... ******* boil with teasing!
i want to fathom a spectacle of trolling!
i want to smear faces into ****!
i want the wholesome crescendo!
i want to itch with
******* out buckwheat digestion!
i want chocolate!
i want a swiss fountain of chocolate!
i want to see IDI AMIN
a proud addition to:
no blacks ever do or did:
any b'aah... b'aah ad ad...
            
i wish "my" people came to "origin"
with a post-colonial narrative...
poor shmucks the scots are...
but they were: "missing"...
you can't retrace a colonial past
to the present citizen of spain:
how well the post-"racialists" peoples
of the southern continent managed to:
you can hear talk
of an argentinian... but he's not spanish...
a brazilian: but he's not... portuguese!

this anglo-saxon "pond" livestock
of memory... do away with us...
i know it's terrible to have a genesis
story so short-lived that europe
is a *******-riddling reminder:
when there's an already political class
harvesting the least worth of fathom...
don't pretend to be historical tourists:
my dutch ancestry...
my german ancestry... my "ancestry":

you deserve the quiff and joking slander:
superior the world's a-hole all over...
who are your little people looking
for in our little funnel of
a constipated asia looking for?
currently?!
the greek aren't admired...
they aren't admired because
they gave a birth to the antagonist
in cyrillic...
and that's that!

or... the greeks aren't admired
because: the metaphor: byzantine -
a complexity of bureaucracy -
but the singing... deaf tone reading of plato...
forget aeschylus -
they were prone to heave
a turkman invasion of
the balkans... given...
the venetians sacking:
the supposed holy place of...
aan eucharist convo. with a pagan "pope"...

like... the 4th crusade was not
a hard-on... for anyone to not fathom...
the inheritance of a history
i must truly deserve...
otherwise: the history overtly given...
to subsequently filter...
how the capetian king philip
augustus is known to me
is: it's not a beyond noticeable
comparisons...
it's just stalemate...

i am furroging in asp and waspishness:
i need a language of antagonism...
i find my most pristine "saint"...
i could cling to a fetish for
interracial *** exploits...
but then i'm a bland white man
and i might require a dodgo lemon
squeeze of eyes...
when a ***** is not in use
and it's hardly a reserved reading
for: expansion... broadening one's mind
with: *******... that "sort" of phallus
size just wouldn't do...
it's no joke but then i prefer
jerking off to... something akin
to... bronzino's venus, cupid,
folly and time...

even then! then!
a woman directly descended from
the titans... aphrodite was...
beside the lineage... from hyperion...
astounded... passed into
the ***** of the olympians...
cherry picking my vavous ego-foetus
of mind into a progress and
future investment...
how the **** spoke...
and became apparently a parody
of parrot chokes...
given the farts would have
to commence at some, point, or "other"...

to demand "pushing boundaries"...
i have them here: ever present always
apparent...
i would sacrifice my whole for these...
as to never have to:
speak a language of appeasement...
as to never speak a language of
a gradual inclination...
or / of never rocking the boat...
i want to drown drunk!
i want to drown a drunkard!
i want to savour a relfish for...
autumn perfumes towing
accents of a variation of timbers...

now i want to stand naked!
i want to be awash with moonshine...
i want more of the night
i want more of the creases in
attaching bone to the formidable
tendon pressures...
i want the technicality of nouns
being lost... i want misnomers...
i want all this supposed word / techno-salad
to be all! furore!
i want to eat the native
with an imagination worth
of a tartar -
  
           i want my tongue to sliver into
the cheddar spronge of their borrowed
brains every time they test themselves
on eating a tartare: notably raw beffrey (b'ee'f)...

yes... this is my former european
status: having to cleave... from it...
because the liberal authorities of
vest-inwested western georgian:
gregorian: kiev is my own project
of last interests...
how isn't it...
ukraine might somehow
rely on article usage: notably:
the ukraine...
there's that "a" associated
with the polish-lithuanian commonwealth?

from sea to sea:
from the baltic sea
to the black sea...
oh look! i too can inherit something...
like a hebrew might inherit
the aesop the king solomon...
like aesop might inherit Tironian
notations...

i am drinking but my cat isn't agitated
by it: troll troll lullaby!
let's celebrate!
dancing monkeys dancing
truants!
it wouldn't: it couldn't possibly
be a black history month
without mentioning
IDI AMIN... dying peacefully
in the arms of sleep
among the saudi camel-jockey "racists"...

how they have been fleeing
the ****** status of harems...
how they were escaping polygamy...
how i wasn't racist how i was
merely ill-conceived over
a work-around of fetish...
i was already a walking abortion...
manic street preachers' debate:
i wasn't enough gay or
feng shui enough...
or brilliant neon purple enough...

hello brilliance! hello party! hello
gay...
ancient europe:
ai viast lo lop....
               creases in my forlorn...
i want: besst attired summation:
this  ****** bulgarian...
this european that's only aa figment
of imagination:

indignations of scythe:
that nothing is borrowed:
that all is: at limbo gested...
                      to heave a scythe
and stone...
i pretend to swallow a breath...
i am aching at the knee
and ankle...
             i am formidably
   nuanced amsterdam...

                  i have to tell
that yawn and "story" for some
variation of catholicism to trickle down...
this forever impossible
and: my-overtly-inflated
char of wording...

                harvest the pea and
dollop of hypersensitivity toward
hue best ascribed to "foliage";
or a burgundy that's neither
purple or red
or wine... or the papacy
of Avignon.

Man pays through the nose for face-value acceptance of a paper toll
to self-anointed men of eugenism whose plans are satanically droll
in realms cognitive begetting a plasticized & politicized retrograde
position of proto-European Unionists & Lib-Dem raconteurs staid
as Occidentals, with roles reversed, will live out century 21 played
N.A.S.A. couldn't defeat the magnetosphere with a budget defrayed
Everyone shares abiding reverence for a crapped-out Daniel Boone
Who mapped Kentucky decades before dancing **** on the moon
prior to synthesizing popular, hypnotic sedative traded as Quāālude
until eugenical, pharmaceutical cartel Pfizer was aggressively sued
Epigenetical factors feed on B-vitamin-abundant-radio-neutral food
Tomatoes are their god-damndest worst pressure-cooked & stewed
Half alive in lesbian-reversed matrimony, 1 bed away a prison dude

Today I looked out at our streets and they felt so obsolete.
What good are these cities for, when we can’t hug any more?
We’ve already lost so much...
Who will we be now that we’ve truly lost touch?

What good are these cars, when they just stay parked?
What’s the point of officers, when they are so lawless.
What good is the work, if it leaves you broke,
What good is the fight, if you are the only one woke?

Race wasn’t a label until we decided not to share.
Animals weren’t in cages, until we profited from their hair,
Facts weren’t disputed or politicized,
Now kids are the pawn, and we’re all desensitized

Look around, nothing will survive.
We can’t eat with an empty beehive.
It’s getting hotter and hotter, but the earth can take it
It’s whether or not we will make it.

Trying to find the root of all this evil,
Trying to give the boot to all these people.
Money makes everything feel cheap.
Power makes you feel weak,
The more I learn the more I lose...
Respect, patience, the right to choose..

We blame Eve for all this spite.
And worship God as a man who is white.
Can’t give credit, where credit is due,
With no womb, how would there be you?

They take a long march
And recruit
The downtrodden
Enforcing their farces
Then throw the whole lot in
The ring
Where the circus
Bespectacled
Beckons
The animals caged
Labor slaves
Win elections
Politicized weapons
Discounting the vote
And outsourcing
Offshoring
The capsizing boat
To some far-reaching
Not my backyard approach
Passes
The buck
To the bucket list
Kicked
Working classes